Salva Prietenul Meu
by NahShizzums123
Summary: After the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier - Bucky finds himself running from the man who was his best friend. Hiding in a dingy bar in Las Vegas until he can work out how to flee the country. He meets Dr Spencer Reid - recovering from a gunshot to the neck and having taken some time off. A simple offer of safety and some shared past sets of chain events that culminate
1. Something There

Hey there everyone, i know this isn't a big fandom for these crossovers. After watching Civil war i wanted to know how the hell Bucky got out of the USA without being spotted, i was always curious as to what would happen if Spencer met him while he was running, i feel like they could get along well enough. So here is what my brain came up with. i hope you enjoy it - let me know what you think.

A big thank you to Drownig_In_Beautiful_Tragedies who has volunteered her time to be my Beta (i have horrible grammar so it's not an easy job)

H xoxo

Title is Romanian for "Save My Friend"

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Spencer Reid sighed to himself as he sat at the bar, his shoulders hunched and his scarf on tight to prevent anyone around him from seeing where the bullet had entered his neck. Since the events in Texas he had become increasingly self-conscious about the wound that was quite visible in his neck. So close to having killed him, yet miraculously he had survived. Still, he couldn't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, if he had been smart enough to stay down lower when he had pulled Blake from the bullet path, they would both gotten away unharmed, she would still be with them and the case could have been done a lot earlier. He could have assisted the team rather than having to have Garcia rushing to keep him safe because he was unable to take care of himself.

Lost in his own mind, Spencer didn't feel the stranger silently sitting down on the only empty chair next to him at the bar. The others filled with people who were watching the room or talking to their friends. True, this wasn't Spencer's usual scene, it was a bit too dark and dodgy for his usual bar tastes, but he had needed to be alone. He'd taken some time off after the case to go to Vegas, needing time away from the team. Somehow, he had wound up in this bar, with cheap drinks and a haunting atmosphere. Spencer sighed as he moved in his chair, accidentally leaning too far to one side – his stool slipping out from under him, sending him toppling into the man whom had just sat down and was holding a beer on the bench. Later Spencer would admire how fast the man moved – suddenly an arm was around him, keeping him up and another had grabbed his chair. An effortless flick of the man's wrist had them both right again. Spencer flushed at the embarrassing display, about to apologise profusely when he saw the left sleeve of the man's long shirt rode up, showing a glinting metal arm that had been broadcasted all over the news only a month earlier. Looking up to the man's face, shocked, he could see the fear as the other had realised what Spencer had seen and was about to run.

"Wait, you don't have to run." He assured him, seeing the way he had balled up his muscles, preparing if he had to fight his way out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall on you. I'm not the most co-ordinated of people." He rushed out, trying to get the man to calm down. It was obvious from looking at him that the fear in his eyes was not that of the ruthless man who had been used by hydra to kill so many people. This man was terrified of his past and future. He was running to keep from getting caught and he could see the confusion in his whole body. Spencer Reid had read the information published by the Black Widow. He'd read how The World War Two soldier James Buchannan Barnes had been experimented on and brainwashed into The Winter Soldier. Sure, he'd had to decode it, but with a mind like Spencer's that hadn't taken long.

"Most people wouldn't apologise to me for that, or try to keep me here." The other man spoke, looking confused with Spencer as he obviously tried to read the man and work out why he wasn't as afraid as he would assume everyone would be. His exploits had been posted worldwide on news and in the information leaked. By now, most people would have run screaming asking for the Avengers to show up and take him into custody. His slowly returning memories were helping him to place who he was, what happened to him – yet, he still knew, that to everyone else, he was seen as a danger to the planet. He'd signed up for the war to help people. Instead, he'd fallen from a train on a cliff, and woken up to be experimented on and turned into his enemy's greatest weapon. "You know who I am? You're not afraid?" the sentence was barely a question – more of a statement but it helped Spencer relax. He could reply with facts. That's something he is good at.

"You're James Buchannan Barnes – also known as Bucky, Born March 10th 1917 in New York. You were a sergeant in World War II – part of 107th where you were part of a group taken as prisoners – you the only one experimented on at that time. You fought along with Captain America aka Steve Rogers as part of a specialised group to take down Hydra. You were pronounced KIA after an incident where you fell off a train and down a cliff. You were brainwashed and experiment on by Hydra who  
replaced your arm. Since then you have worked as their top assassin, with no recollection of you time with you friends fighting for Shield in its infancy." He spoke, his voice hushed to prevent others overhearing them. He smiled shyly, realising that would be a bit weird to know about someone, yet he couldn't help his brain from reeling off the facts. "Sorry, I'm Spencer Reid – most just call me Reid. I have an eidetic memory so I remember everything I read, and I've read a lot about you and Steve Rogers. You were like fairy tales to me growing up – the Howling Commandos." He blushed brightly at the admission and ducked his head. Yet he could see in his peripheral as the other man relaxed slightly. "The way you are sitting, you obviously have no anger or apathy. You feel embarrassed and disappointed in what was done to you. Guilty for what you've done to people. Scared that it will come back to you, you're running because you know the world sees you as a threat and you don't know how to convince them you're not - because of everything you've done it would be hard to explain. When I saw your arm just now you were prepared to run or fight, you assumed I'd be afraid of you because of the news coverage over everything that happened in Shield. I'm not afraid of you, I feel saddened by what they did to you. You should have been a war hero – Captain America's best friend, taking down Hydra and helping to win the war. Yet your name is blemished by what they did to you. That's not your fault." He spoke with confidence in his skills to analyse the man, knowing he could profile him.

Bucky smiled softly, "Thanks. I guess I don't expect people to think of it that way." He said with a forlorn expression. "I don't need to introduce myself, being you already know my full bibliography." The comment made Reid flush and Bucky lighten slightly.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you in Las Vegas, let alone this bar?" He questioned him – no one at the bar was paying attention to them, allowing them privacy to speak as Bucky had adjusted his sleeve to keep his arm covered and his head tipped slightly lower.

"I had to get as far away from New York as possible after what happened. Steve Rogers is going to be looking for me. I am leaving America, I just haven't decided where to go yet. Probably back to Europe, I just can't afford to catch a plane. I don't know how I plan to get there." He spoke lowly, disappointment thick in his voice. "I need to lay low, hopefully the search party will fade away but until then I can't be seen in too public of places." His voice was sad by the fact that he knew he was avoiding the attention of his best friend, having felt that he had betrayed and disappointed him – well he had tried to kill him. "What about you?" Finding this stranger who he was speaking to oddly comforting, he understood the Winter Soldier was someone he was forced to become, that he wasn't dangerous and he could see that he just wanted to be free.

Reid sighed quietly and pulled down the side of his scarf that showed the bullet entry wound. "I work for the FBI in Virginia as a profiler – we create profiles of offender characteristics and types to help the local law enforcement when there is a serial crime. We were on a case in Texas where I was shot in the neck trying to protect someone else in my team. She ended up resigning and it was because I reminded her of her son, who died when he was a child. I was born and raised in Vegas so I came back to visit my mom and have some time to think about what happened." He said as he readjusted his scarf to protect his neck and hide the wound from view. The string of resignation in his voice made the other man frown at the very obvious emotional turmoil Reid was going through. It made it rather obvious that this kid blamed himself and had obviously not had the easiest life. They should have plenty to talk about.

So that's what they did, sitting at a bar for hours they spoke, asking and answering questions. Telling each other stories. Whether it be about modern references that despite Reid's age he knew how to explain but was almost as clueless as Bucky in some aspects or the lifestyle of the early 1940's.

"I better get going, I'll probably need to find somewhere to spend the night." Bucky spoke up sometime later, the smile fading off his face as he thought about going on the run again. This scrawny kid, who reminded him so much of Steve - before the serum turned him into Captain America – headstrong, willing to fight for his friends (even if he wasn't all that good at it) and he cared very deeply. That much was obvious.

"You know, you don't have to run." He said as he bit his lip, he'd explained earlier about his mom in Bennington. "I still own my childhood house, the mortgage was pretty much already payed off by the time I was eighteen, you can stay there for a bit. Its private, has its own garden. You don't have to, but it would give you some time to relax and decide what you want to do next." He offered, "I'm heading back there now anyway. There is plenty of room." He spoke, he wanted to help. This man that had his life flipped upside down without even having the option to change it.

Bucky watched this kid, the way he was looking at him, his expression open and honest. He couldn't lie, this would be an amazing opportunity to rest a little, take in what had happened to him and recuperate. "If you don't mind, I would appreciate that." He spoke, pushing the empty beer away from him. "and call me James would you? I feel like I may have disappointed Steve too much for Bucky." He smiled as Reid stood as well and the duo made their way out to catch a cab.

Reid's hand shook slightly as he opened the door to his childhood home, a mixture of the alcohol in his body and the fact he was letting a stranger into his house, even if they had gotten to know each other over the last few hours and Spencer knew practically everything about him from the files. They were still relative strangers. On habit as he opened the door he let his ever present bag fall to the floor and turned on the light without ever reaching for the switch. Looking around to see his guest's reaction.  
He sighed quietly to himself and hunched his shoulders in preparation for the strange looks. "Sorry, forgot to tell you that, it's habit. I have a mutant gene in me that allows me to control and manipulate energy around me – including electricity. I tend to stay away from it though." He spoke with a shake to his voice, he rarely told anyone about his ability, there weren't many mutants in the world and he knew it was rare for them to be known about.

He watched as James shrugged, "I have a metal arm, I can't judge you, kid." He spoke as he put the small backpack he carried with him down by Reid's own bag. He looked up to the scowl on Reid's face at the sentence. "are you okay?" he asked, unsure how to approach the fact that he had been invited into someone's home to stay, when the person knew he was an assassin and said person also worked for the government, some of which were trying to arrest him.

"Kid," he mumbled almost feeling the word on his tongue, "we look the same age, you know that right?" he asked with a cock of his head, "if anything you look 29 and I'm 32".

"yeah, I was in cryo-genesis. But I am 97 years old, technically." He spoke as he walked cautiously into the house. "you're less than a third of my age." He pointed out, with contemplation on his face, "Although good point, I won't call you kid." He reasoned, it was a point. He was biologically 29 years old when he was formed into the Winter Soldier and hadn't aged since, although he was born in 1917. He would forever be 29, so Reid, who was biologically and technically 32 - even if he didn't look much older than 21- would still appear his senior in public. Especially being the kid seemed to dislike the nickname, which probably meant he'd been called it before.

"It's fine, you can call me 'kid' if you want. It's just, I've always been the youngest. I graduated high school at 12 years old, youngest agent in the FBI ever. Everyone calls me kid, even though I'm not and I can handle myself." He pointed out with a sharp sigh, trying to bury his annoyance at the nickname that always seemed to haunt him – regardless of how old he got, or how much experience he gained.

"You seem to be really smart." James said as he walked over to the other man who seemed to be quickly becoming a good companion and the nicest human being he's met in a while – whom he hadn't had to kill. He watched the other man's face turn bright red at the comment and his shoulders hunch, something he saw was quite a common posture for the shy man.

"I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words a minute." He spoke with a practiced apathy that didn't go unnoticed by his new companion. "Come on, I'll show you the room you can stay in." he spoke and lead him through the house to the guest room. He never touched his mother's room, just because of the sentiment and he wanted to preserve the memories inside.

"um, thank you for this. I appreciate it." James spoke as he followed Reid through the house until they reach the room that Spencer opened up and he found one whole wall filled with books. Some that he even recognised from his own school years.

"Don't mention it, I know what it's like to be judged from somethings you've done. Even if it's the opposite spectrum to you." He smiled at the other man. "I'm off for another two weeks as part of my medical leave, so I can stay around if you'd like some company?" he asked as he let him wander the room. He could see the way that the other man was still surprised each time Reid showed his lack of fear regarding who he was. The fact that the man seemed willing to spend two weeks with him, had James reeling in the pure faith the man had in his ability to have read him originally.

"Company?" he mumbled absently, "that would be nice, especially if you don't try to kill me." He smirked to himself in a self-depreciating way. He moved over to a book he hadn't seen before, reaching up to pull it down as it caught his eye. "is this…" he trailed off as he noticed a book mark in the middle of the book and opened to the page. The bookmark caught his eye first, a young scrawny boy with chocolate brown hair curled up with a blonde woman, a book sitting on their lap as the both poured over it together. He moved the picture to the side and saw his own face looking up at him – or rather his military id picture. The same one that was in a museum in New York.

"That's a book about the Howling Commandos, yeah. It was my favourite as a child, a book about real heroes. That's me in the bookmark by the way, with my mom, before she got too bad that reading war books made her paranoid." He spoke as he approached the other man and looked down at the book. "Turn the page, it has a picture of your whole group." He spoke with a small smile, wanting to help the man remember how good his past had been, as it was obvious he was depressed currently. "Keep the book if you want." He offered, "I've read it that many times, I know it word by word." He reminded. He smiled to himself as he saw James flip the page and a ghost of a look passed over his face as he saw the picture of them all, geared up before the mission that would have become his last.

"Thank you." He said softly as he looked up at the other man with the first true smile in almost 70 years.


	2. Almost Kind

**Hey everyone, i don't know if people actually read this story, because i can understand it wouldn't be a commonly searched crossover with Criminal minds, unlike Supernatural etc. But for those of you who do, i appreciate and love you all very much :).**  
 **If anyone works out the easter egg that i planted into this chapter - you have obviously been paying attention to both fandoms and i applaud your commitment with great pride.**

 **Thank you very much to my amazing Beta Drownig_In_Beautiful_Tragedies**

 **Love you all**  
 **H xx**

It wasn't until a couple days later that the breakthrough in their budding friendship happened, between Spencer and his new housemate.

It had just turned 3:48am when Spencer shot up in his bed, a scream caught in the back of his throat. One that only years of practice helped him keep it from escaping his lungs. He looked dejectedly towards the clock and sighed as he noticed the time, even on vacation – it appeared sleeping in was not something he could ever indulge in.

He forced himself to get out of bed, knowing if he stayed in there, his thoughts would return to the nightmare that haunted his perfect memory. Really it had been years since he had managed to sleep through the night without waking up for some reason or because of a nightmare. He had grown accustomed to filling himself with coffee to fill the void in his rest period.

Even as he did attempt to forget about the nightmare, parts of it still crept back to him as he pulled on a comfortable pair of leisure pants and headed towards the kitchen.

They were back in Texas, he'd just woken up in the hospital following the surgery on his neck and he looked to the side. Except instead of seeing Garcia there, like he remembered happening – or rather what should have happened, there was blood splattering the walls. The crimson liquid causing startling contrast against the sterile white walls of the hospital room. The familiar pattern of arterial spray painted the walls like something out of a horrible horror movie, sending a shiver down his spine. Spencer sat up slowly, looking around for any kind of life near the hospital room. Wanting a nurse or a doctor to come in and tell him what was going on. Except as he sat up and looked towards the door he saw the image that would haunt his mind. Penelope Garcia was laying on the floor by the door, surrounded by a pool of blood, spewing from a slashed throat – obviously the reason for the bloody painted walls. The night terror got worse as he looked out the door, trying to get some way to wake up and saw a continuing red trail as each of his team member's bodies littered the hospital corridors. Leading him to the words written on the opposite wall – in the blood of his family. 'You are weak' – words that had haunted him his whole life, following him through childhood, education, the academy and had haunted his thoughts many times out in the field. A constant fear that his weakness could get his friends killed. It made him sick to see what his mind had created to show him just how weak he really was, to know the consequences of these actions could mean the death of everyone he loved and cared for.

Spencer shook his head and pulled himself back into his mind as he registered he had made it all the way to the kitchen and had turned on the coffee maker without even actually registering any of it. He kept his mind firmly on the task in front of him as he pulled out a mug and his sugar to prepare his coffee the way he preferred to ensure he would actually be able to survive the day. It was still undecided if he was to visit his mother today - she had had a bad day yesterday and the doctor's didn't expect her to be much better today after the episode that had gotten unusually bad due to the slight alterations to her schedule.

It was almost 4:10 am when Spencer heard movement towards the kitchen and his head shot up to see the approaching man, shuffling out from the guest bedroom, rubbing at the fused join where metal met skin. Spencer looked up from his space on the couch where he could see into the open plan kitchen and smiled to himself at the absent sleepy look on the former soldier. "Coffee is on the left counter – just press the green button. Milk in in the fridge, mugs are in the cupboard underneath coffee maker and sugar in the cupboard above it." He called out. Not surprised when the man didn't flinch at his voice, knowing with his heightened senses he would have known Spencer was awake and probably exactly where the man was sitting before he reached the kitchen.

He waited patiently as James made his coffee and approached the living room almost hesitantly, before sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Spencer, but shifting his body so he was looking at the younger man. It was Spencer who broke the silence first however, "couldn't sleep?" he asked quietly, feeling that the moment called for low pitched voices.

He saw the way the other man blew out a breath and nodded, "My memories have been returning slowly. A lot usually happens when I'm asleep. I remember all these missions and they keep me awake." He said, his own voice just as soft spoken and low pitched. "You couldn't sleep either?" he asked instead of having to explain more, unsure he would be able to go into detail about what he had remembered tonight as it still had his hair standing on edge to think about what he had done to those people he was ordered a hit against.

Thankfully Spencer realised this and sighed his own exasperation at his mind. "Yeah, I have nightmares. I haven't slept properly in years – tonight was just a bad one." He answered with a groan and placed down his now empty mug, instantly missing the warmth in his hands.

James hesitated for a moment before straightening his back in a very familiar pose to that of a soldier getting ready to walk into the warzone. "Can I ask you something?" he spoke, his voice low still, yet the unsure ring to it had Spencer coking his head in assent. "How come you know so much about me? I get you read the books about us, and the Hydra files – but the last couple of days being here, you've mentioned things that shouldn't be on those files, about where I was kept and other things that went on behind the scenes. How did you know?" he was curios, which much was obvious – yet, he was also cautious, he didn't want Spencer to turn out to be someone he made a mistake to trust.

Spencer wasn't startled by the question, he figured it would be coming soon and instead let out a defeated breath as he unfolded himself from the couch to approach the bookshelf and retrieve a well-worn, slightly tattered book with handwriting down the spine and on the cover. Handing the book over to James to open he took a second to compose himself before he started to speak. "When I was 10 years old, my family was low on funds and my father hated the fact I was so different. He didn't attempt to hide his disgust at having a mutant son who was also not long off finishing high school." He sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair, tussling it in a way that showed his companion how stressful this story was. "He found an ad in the paper and he signed me up for it. I was so excited when he told me I was going to Europe to help participate in an experiment. I thought I was going to help the scientists with breakthrough discoveries. In a way, that was true. Except I wasn't there to help with the experiment, I was the experiment. I was tested on and my powers were genetically messed with – reaching the point they became dangerously strong. I was there for almost a year, that's why I graduated high school at 12, I could have done it at 11. When I was there I found out my father had volunteered me for a weapons research project that was run by Hydra under the guise of another company. To this day I don't know if he knew what it really was or not. What he put me through. While I was there, I witnessed a lot of things and I overheard even more. I was and am a genius, I picked up the language very fast to learn what they were saying. I heard them always refer to something known as 'The Asset' or 'The Weapon' – at the time I didn't know that was you. It was towards the end of my year there when I witnessed them bring you out of cryo-freeze. My powers were being tested that day so I was nearby when you were given your mission, I saw you leave the facility and then return several days later. I heard the de-brief and then them re-wiping your memory before putting you back. I didn't know who you were at that point, I had never seen your face in any of the books I'd read – I didn't make the connection until I was at university a few years later." He spoke with a thread of pain in his voice that showed to James just how much these memories hurt him, what he would have gone through as a 10-11 year old child.

Yet, now that James thought back to the returning memories, he did remember seeing a small child around the labs and the facility, always escorted by two armed guards with metal cuffs on his wrists that weren't like restraints but wide enough that they could be if necessary. The young kid, that even though now he knew it had been Spencer, he had though couldn't have been older than 8, with shaggy unkempt brown hair, wide glasses and bright brown eyes that seemed to analyse everything around him. He had remembered being struck by his presence and the almost dejected way he walked – thinking why this kid was in a place like this, what were they doing to it. His memory had been wiped before he could ask questions.  
"How did you get out?" he found himself asking before he could stop to think – now looking back and realising that those restraints would have been acting to dampen his powers so he wasn't a danger to the hydra agents around him.

Spencer was a profiler – of course he saw as James started to slip back into old memories, memories that obviously bothered him. Seeing the way his body tightened and the blank look his face took on, one that spoke of being given orders and following them because he had no other choice. "Just before the one year mark they had started trying to mess with my head, except everything they did to me, my powers fought back against, they drew in and protected me in my own mind. The energy would fluctuate and strengthen whenever something was used against me. I don't know what they were trying to do, it's not like I was very physical. They had been building my powers, they were stronger than ever – then one day, I don't know what happened, they sent an electric blast through my brain but my energy rebelled with such strength that I blew up the half of the lab I had been in. I ran. I didn't have the cuffs on so I could use that energy to speed me up, and I got out of there. By the time I got home, my father had already left my mother, with a note on the kitchen table for me. I went back to my life and pretended it never happened. No one ever came looking for me again and I never told anyone what happened." His voice carried a hint of sorrow to it, yet at the same time he sounded stronger than he had previously.

It was in a moment like this – as they lapsed into silence on the couch, facing each other with their legs drawn up and James with a mug still in his hands, empty as it now may be. The duo came to realise that unlike most other people, they understood at least some of the things the other had gone through. The experimentation and the orders. Spencer had managed to escape before it became too bad, but he at least understood what they had done to James to make him the way he was. It would have only have been a short time if the younger stayed there that he probably would have become a mindless soldier as well. The thought of that young innocent, scared looking kid turning into a killing machine – James couldn't stop the cold dread that filled him inside.

They sat in silence for an extended period of time, both looking each other and connecting what they already knew with the facts they had just found out.

Spencer broke the silence as he sighed and leant back against the couch, "I have a question – you can say no if you want. I don't want to intrude on your privacy, I understand that it's difficult and you can feel uncomfortable about it, but I was just curious and-" He started to ramble, getting caught up in his anxiety and the need to break away from what they had been speaking about earlier that had left such a dark tone on the room.

"Spencer," James interrupted with a flash of a grin, "you have to ask the question before I say yes or no." he reminded the young genius and raised an eyebrow in question as he set his own mug onto the coffee table in front of the couch they were sitting on. He could see the nerves in the man's body at asking something – assuming it would be something he thought James would be uncomfortable with meant it either had to do with his arm or his Hydra experiences. It wasn't any secret that since he had started to regain his memories he was a little unsure of the presence of his vibranium arm.

"I was wondering, if you would mind me using my powers to take a look at what Hydra did to you, I don't know if I can fix it, but I would be able to have a look, I can covert my energy to electrical waves similar to that used in the brain and maybe be able to view the conditioning they put you through via a neurological aspect?" he asked, his hands twisting in his lap at the possibility of James' response. Unsure if he would say yes as it would be such a private thing.

That's why Spencer was so surprised when James nodded once and quirked his head, "okay, anything could help right?" he asked as he shifted on the sofa, scooting along the cushions to get closer to Spencer. He let his head bow slightly, letting Spencer know that he could ask him to move into a position that would be comfortable for the other man to be able to use his powers in.

Spencer couldn't help grin at the display of trust that agreeing showed, shuffling himself forward to meet his companion halfway. He reached up to place his hands on the man's temples. Letting out a deep breath he let his energy shift and change to something almost telepathic as he merged with the man's brain chemistry. Feeling the pulses and the firing as the neurons sent the messages through the synapses. It wasn't long before he was able to find the area of conditioning that would be responsible for James's actions as the winter soldier. He could see the dark shadow of conditioning, expanding his energy to be able to picture it in the man's head and be able to look around it. To see the way the darkness twined with different sections of the man's motor functions and specifically his temporal lobe, including his ability to hear. From what Spencer could gather it had meant that the conditioning would be triggered by something verbally spoken or a noise that would resinate with this part of him and trigger the soldier they created. He tried to unwind it but found it to tightly fused into him. Instead he oved along the shadow and started to release the bits that had clenched onto his memories, hoping that releasing them would bring him happy memories that the man seemed to be missing – not just the memories of murder and pain that he had witnessed.

He pulled back slowly and smiled sadly at James. "I can't get rid of it, but I released some of your memories though." he said, wanting to be able to help as much as he can. He could see the peace that crossed James' face briefly as he nodded.

"Thanks Spencer. I knew it was a long shot, but anything helps." He said and moved hesitantly as he leaned forward and embraced the slender man in a light and unsure hug. It was obvious to the genius that through his years as the assassin, this man had gotten so used to no physical affection. Spencer lifted his arms and held on tightly, glad that he was growing to feel he could trust this man in front of him and that the trust was returned.

"It's what friends do." He answered, his voice soft and shy as he sat back from the hug, hiding his face in his bangs but sure of his words. He didn't see the surprised expression on his companion's face – who realised that even though they had only met a few days ago they were beginning to build a rather strong friendship. He hadn't become this fast friends with someone since he met Steve, almost a century ago.

A couple of days later and Spencer had somehow managed to convince James to come out with him and do some shopping. The house needed food and James needed new clothes. The bag he had only had one change in it. With the help of a pair of motorbike gloves, a nicely fitted jacket, hat and jeans – they managed to make it possible for James to blend in with the others around him. Even if a bit weird in the heat of the building Vegas summer.

They had been through three shops, and were heading to the final one to grab meat before they headed back to the house. They had collected a good mix of light weight but long sleeve clothing for James to wear that would allow him to keep his arm covered, yet, not sweat as he was right now. Hence the reason he had pretty much been complaining since he left the house. Part of it warmed Spencer inside that James felt comfortable enough with him to make almost childish complaints – however, another part wanted to take the super-soldier's mouth shut.

"Seriously James, if I hear one more complaint about how hot it is here compared to Europe or New York, I'm leaving you here and you can walk home." He huffed as he circled the last isle to grab what they needed. His companion's super strength being put to good use to carry all the bags they had collected so far as they had become too heavy with the basket for Spencer to handle himself.

"Spencer, I can't help it, I literally lived in ice for almost 70 years, it's the Winter soldier not the Summer soldier, I don't do this kind of heat." He said in a harsh whisper, making sure the other shoppers wouldn't be able to over hear their conversation. The snort Spencer let out drew some eyes to the pair, ducking his head to hide behind his bangs and peek an eye up at his companion.  
"You actually just said that?" he questioned incredulously, seeing the moment what he said registered with the man and he grinned slowly, shrugging.  
"Guess I did. Although, I'm not incorrect." He pointed out with a happy shrug as he helped Spencer lift the basket to head to the checkout and finally head home where there would be airconditioning.  
He didn't even pause when he realised that he had called Spencer's house, the place he had only been living for almost a week, 'home.' Thanks to the man smiling beside him, he was becoming something more than an assassin and he was actually finding peace. He still would be leaving America soon, but for now he had a home with the slightly eccentric genius who had become his friend


	3. He was Cruel

Hey everyone, sorry it's been so wrong, i've been struggling to write.  
i know where i want this story to go, but getting there is a bit harder than i anticipated, i have it all set out in my head and it sounds awesome up there, just on the page it isn't coming out right.  
this story is un-beta's for now but i will rectify it later.  
let me know what you think  
Love  
H x

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Everything was going great, of course that just meant something hadn't yet gone wrong. He was really starting to hope that he would be safe here, that he'd found a new life here, he could move on, start to work through what he had done. Forgive himself and maybe in time he could return home and ask for forgiveness from those whom he'd disappointed. I was slow going, that was true, but night by night more of his memories came back. Sometimes he'd wake up screaming, or lashing out when he felt someone try and wake him.

Yet, this young genius continued to surprise him by waiting patiently or managing to dodge out of the way when he swung out with his prosthetic arm. The younger man would sit with him after, help him work out what had happened and deal with the emotions that the dreams and memories brought with them. The man hadn't even asked pried into why he was asking him to call him by a different name than what he had been known for by years. He just was supportive of his choice. He couldn't believe it, but Spencer was quickly becoming one of his closest friends.

Of course, that was when things just had to go wrong.

He'd woken up early one morning, not from a nightmare for once. Having decided that being Spencer would be going back to work in Virginia in a few days - now that his recovery time was up, he was going to make them breakfast. He's just finished plating up the bacon and sausages and was grabbing the eggs when Spencer stumbled in, looking half-asleep as had become custom for the former soldier to see. Passing the mumbling genius some coffee and directing him to sit down, making sure he had seated before he took a drink, having witnesses the absent minded genius miss his mouth first thing in the morning multiple times and end up with hot coffee down his shirt.

"Morning James," Spencer spoke softly as he curled into the seat and looked up sleepily as the plate filled with food was placed in front of him. The delicious aroma filling his nostrils and making his mouth water.

"Morning, you sleep well?" he responded, looking at the other as he took his own seat. He knew that the FBI agent was just as prone to nightmares, he would usually wake up during the night to find that Spencer was either already awake or had not even gone to bed yet. It was strange the things they had found to bond over, but those insomnia filled, nightmare plagues nights were one of them. Several times they'd sat up speaking until they had practically fallen asleep on the sofa at dawn. Then surviving on only a few hours of sleep that day as they had managed to avoid the dreams they feared.

"Not bad, only a few blips last night, what about you? I didn't hear anything from your room all night. Progress?" Spencer asked, looking over the mug as he took a sip of the sweetened coffee before placing it to the side and digging into his food with fervour.

"I slept surprisingly well, probably the most relaxing I've rested since my memories have returned." James replied, it was not common for him to bring up any mention to the period of time in which he hadn't known who he was. Yet, as they had grown closer in friendship, he's opened up his trust to the man and had found himself more comfortable talking about the subject.

"That's good. I was wondering, would you be up to going out today, there is a festival in town, I think you'd really enjoy it?' Spencer asked as he took a bite from the bacon and made a small sound in the back of his throat, which James took as praise for the food he's cooked. He hated to admit it but it had taken him almost the whole of the first week here to work out how to use all the appliances in the kitchen and throughout the home. Sure they had had some of these in the 40's, but this was so much more advanced. So many more buttons and knobs, with different options.

"I guess," he answered, "but…" he trailed shrugging his left shoulder knowing he wouldn't need to explain the problem he thought would arise being that the man across from his had already seemed to understand everything he was going through. He was sure he would also understand the fact that James was concerned about hiding his metal arm in public, especially with the casualness that people touched each other's shoulders with now a days.

The smile that appeared on Spencer's face he wasn't sure if that was reassuring. "don't worry," the young genius replied, "I've already thought of that, I've got something getting delivered for you this morning that should be good enough to hide that in public and not be uncomfortable for you to wear all day." He spoked softly, smiling at the older man. "This is really good by the way, you wouldn't know that you haven't cooked in seventy years." He teased, lightening the mood from the dark places it could go is James was left to think about his arm for too long, which would inevitably lead to the reasons he had it.

"Well, I've noticed you tend to forget to eat, thought I may be able to assist with putting some meat on you. You're really skinny kid." He teased back, letting out a breath at the distraction and grinning as he knew how much Spencer disliked being called kid. Sure enough, when he looked up at the other man in true childish fashion he had his tongue sticking out at the former assassin.

The morning devolved into banter and teasing as they went through their morning routines before settling on the couch together to watch some TV and play a few games of cards that had become a reoccurring thing for the pair.

The packaged arrived a couple of hours later, the only things signifying it's arrival was a sharp knock on the door. When Spencer went to answer it he found only a box on the front steps with a note taped to the top. Grinning to himself as he carried it in he looked over to where the ex-soldier was watching TV with a rabid fascination, some documentary about the predators in the wild. He looked up as Spencer entered and looked down to the box the young profiler was carrying.

Spencer placing it down on the coffee table and kneeling in front of it had James' full attention turning towards his friend. Curious as to see what the man had got that would hide his arm.  
He watched the younger man pull the note from the top and flip it over to read it briefly, a small laugh falling from his lips as he placed it back down, his eyes sparkling with humour that had James' questioning before he could decide to not interrupt, "what's that?" He asked softly, moving to kneel beside him.

"Just a friend in New York that I contacted to get this for me, it was rather guarded, I needed his skills. Apparently I now owe him dinner." He laughed softly ad pushed the note to the side where it would be kept safe for later. "Anyway," he grinned and grabbed a pair of scissors from the couch side drawer and slices along the tape holding the box together. He didn't open it however, just simply made sure it was no longer securely closed before he passed it to the man seated beside him. Who's confusion was now evident on his face as he looked over the package and then at the man who had given it to him. It warmed Spencer to see however, that although he was confused and cautious, he didn't seem to be afraid or expecting anything bad. They open expression on his face showed Spencer just how much trust had grown between them in the short time they had known each other.

James moved his hands slowly, his metal one catching the light and making his pause for a moment to stare at it with a form of hatred. It was only a second though as he moved back to opening the box. At first catching a glimpse of a dark blue material. It took him a second to place it as he pulled it from the box and the material shaped itself into a jacket. Then he saw the specific stitching and the pattern of the front and his breath hitched for a second. He would know this Jacket anywhere. He had so many memories fighting beside his best friend in a Jacket that was exactly like this one.

Before he could speak Spencer spoke up, "Obviously it's not the same one, you were wearing that  
one. But when you fell and Rogers went missing, they recreated your original uniform for display as part of the museum in New York and I thought if anything could hide your arm and make you feel comfortable at the same time, it would have to be a that jacket." His voice was shy and low, like he didn't know the reaction he would get from it – it made James's heart break for a second, just how hesitant he sounded. This man who had literally taking a fugitive assassin into his house and started to teach him about this foreign futuristic world, who trusted him even when he knew there was still something implanted in his brain and forgave him for all the awful things he had done, yet he sat there in fear that James would tell him it wasn't good enough? How often had this man been let down or hurt before? It wasn't something he could ever bring himself to do, he owed his life to this man and he would honour that until the day he finally died.

"Spencer…" the trailed off trying to think how he could put everything he wanted to say into words that the younger man wouldn't be able to misinterpret. Instead he settled for the simplest he could think of. He reached out and pulled the too skinny man in for a hug and just softly whispered against his hair, "thank you." His emotions bleeding into his voice and he knew Spencer would be able to read them.

The moment dissipated a little bit as Spencer leaned back and smiled brightly at him, "well are you going to try it on?" he teased and had James rolling his eyes as he stood up with the jacket and shifted to put it on. He had to be honest, it was a little tight, he had gained muscle since his original time wearing this, but the material was comfortable as it hugged his body and his arm didn't show obviously through it. He smiled at the man still watching him and felt the almost brotherly love he had for the kid growing that much more.

It was barely an hour later when James found himself being pushed out the house and towards the car. Having been rushed through getting changed and was now being forced into the car before he could complain. This would be the first proper time he had been out the house where they would be going somewhere surrounded by people without any weapon on him. Spencer had even insisted he leave his pocket knife at the house, saying they would be perfectly fine and where they were going was completely safe.

He didn't know what he expected this 'festival' to be however he sure as hell did not expect to be walking with Spencer to the door of what looked to be an abandoned warehouse and standing behind the other man as he knocked on the door and muttered a single word phrase to whoever cracked it slightly. The door opened fully and showed a semi dark hallway that Spencer walked confidently into, following the man who had answered the door. James could feel himself starting to get nervous, a feeling that was very similar to the emerging of a panic attack gripping at his chest and throat, constricting his breathing. Spencer seemed to have noticed because he tipped his head back and smiled reassuringly, "trust me, it's nothing bad, you'll enjoy it." He spoke, his voice betraying no sign of a lie – on the contrary it sounded honest and open. Serving to make James react just that little bit more.

Any fear he had was unfounded when they stepped through a door at the end of the hall and he found himself in a scene that was almost like he's stepped back in time. Back to where he was from almost perfectly. In front of him was a stage with American banners hanging on the back and an old musical set up on the stage. There were round tables off to the side and a dancefloor in front of the stage. He looked over in awe at Spencer who was grinning at him cheekily. "it's a festival kind of thing that happens each year, it's so underground because it's for people that the government don't accept or find dangerous. People like mutants – like me, and now by extension, like you. You'll be welcome here, regardless of your past, this isn't a place to judge." He spoke honestly and openly to James. James could feel the wonder filling him, the almost sense of companionship and home he hadn't felt in such a long time.

"Yet, why does it look like we have stepped back to the 1940's?" he couldn't stop himself from asking and spotting some people who were over by the bar and couple of women coming in from another door. Dressed in perfect dresses and suits that he could vividly remember being surrounded by before his deployment.

"Each year we have this meet up, this festival is really just a party, it happens all week long. One day is always a time period. It's rather coincidental, but this just happens to be this year's time period. Last year it was Victorian era England." Spencer smiled as he led James to sit at a table. "Food will be round later, it's mainly just finger snacks, but until then we can get drinks, dance or have a talk to some of the others. You aren't the only former assassin here, so don't worry about being perceived the way the others do." Spencer said, he tried to speak lightly and hopefully encourage James to relax, the way he was still looking around in awe was both heart breaking and encouraging. It was obvious the nearly century old soldier was missing his home, missing his family and where he had grown up. The festivals time period may have been random, but Spencer felt it was just what James needed to bring him back.

It seemed to work for a bit. The time passed rather fast and within an hour of being there James had given into his former love of going dancing and ignoring Spencer's insistence he go himself, the man had dragged the younger agent out with him to the dancefloor to move along to the music. The smile and laughter that was coming from both of them, especially with the amount of times that James had had to catch Spencer when the younger man had tripped on his own feet and almost fallen flat on his face. At some point Spencer had managed to introduce James top a few of the people mingling around. Watching throughout the evening as the man had relaxed when he realised that people were recognising who he was and then ignoring it, treating like he was normal for the first time in over half a century.

James could honestly say he was having fun, he was interacting with people who actually wanted to talk to him, and not order him a round, he was laughing and joking around with Spencer while they danced in front of the stage. Even if it became obvious to the older man that his younger companion was not the most fluid at dancing and took a little bit of coaching just to stop tripping over his own feet. At one point James had convinced the man to dance with him in a pair. Hands bracing him so he didn't slip as he twirled them around the dancefloor in view of the others who had stopped for a moment to watch the pair that seemed to be moving in synchrony.

They left later that night, laughing and teasing each other. Smiles plastered on their faces and a little wobbly from the alcohol that had been available at the open bar.

That was when the predictable thing that Spencer knew had to go wrong, did. They were almost at the house again when Spencer's phone rang. Picking it up laughing at something James had just finished saying, he didn't check the caller id before he answered.  
"Dr Reid?" he answered, leaning a little bit against the solid built soldier beside him as they walked down the path that would lead them to the front door. Grinning with James braced an arm around his shoulder's to support Spencer's extra weight against his side as they walked.

"Spencer?" The voice on the other end asked urgently, causing Spencer to pause at the sudden influx of panic in the usually serene voice.

"Nicole? What's wrong?" he asked and saw as James paused beside him, Nicole was the organiser pf the festival they had just left, and had been one of the first people that Spencer had introduced James to, one they both got along very well with. Switching the phone to Speaker just in case he needed James' help hearing what the panic was about.

"Is your friend still with you?" She asked urgently, her voice rushing and making it a little harder to understand. James and Spencer locking eyes above the device, a sudden panic building in their own chests as well at the possibility that there could be trouble.

"He's right here, what's wrong?" Spencer asked again, his own voice pitching up as he could feel the panic at someone he cared about possible being in danger start to settle into his chest.

"A man just showed up asking for him, said he had some Intel that he would be here. Says he's with the Avengers. We said we didn't remember seeing either of you here, but I don't know if he believed us. Tall, dark skinned, googles and silver and red wings. Do you know him? Said his name was Falcon." She spoke and with every word Spencer could feel the dread settling at the pit of his stomach. They barely had a few days left and Spencer had thought when he went back to DC they would be safe, but it looks like someone had found James, and he knew the older man wasn't quite ready to face his friends just yet. He saw James cursing and running his gloved metal hand through his styled hair.

"That's one of Steve's new friends, I may have thrown him around a bit before I got my memories back, Steve probably sent him around to try and find me. How did they know we would be there?" He could hear the stress building in the former Assassins voice and Spencer knew it wasn't safe for him here anymore.

What happened next was really just a blur of action. Spencer was moving into the house with James behind him. Before they were both even inside properly Spencer started altering the energy in the room with his mutation to act like telekinesis. "Go get dressed," He said to James as he took up place in the dead centre of the house and shut and locked the door. Bolted the windows, opened his laptop from the desk and simultaneously began searching for flights and accommodation out of the US. While in the guest bedroom where James was getting changed, a bag appeared and started packing aware the spare clothes they'd got him recently that actually fit and weren't his old uniform.

Twenty minutes later and James stepped out of the room carrying the bag that Spencer had packed. He paused for a second watching as this seemingly armless man in the middle of the room seemed to be surrounded by an unearthly glow as things in the living room moved and changed as he obviously used his mutation to sort things out.

"Okay, we have ten minutes, a car is going to pull up to the house and they're going to take you to an airport. Once there you are going on a private jet to Romania, A friend is flying you so don't be concerned about being snitched on. Then from there I have had another acquaintance who owed me a favour allow you to live in a small non-descript apartment in the city where you shouldn't be recognised. They have promised security and secrecy. They would understand why. Meanwhile if Falcon comes here I can use the energy to manipulate your room and keep it hidden from sight. I've packed your charger and phone so that you can keep in contact with me. Don't worry no one can trace you." It was all said with an absentmindedness as though Spencer was somewhere else at the same time that he was speaking. Which was why he jolted when James walked up to him and wrapped both his arms around the skinny doctor and pulled him in for a hug.

"Thank you Spencer, thank you for everything. If you ever need anything just ask." He spoke, his voice soft and clogged with emotion he hadn't felt in a very long time. This man had looked past his actions and his name, had seen the person he used to be and who he wanted to be again. Had given him a chance to be human again and James could honestly say he loved this man – like a brother or a best friend. He owed him everything.

"Keep in touch, call me when you can, I'll always answer, even if I'm working. Don't thank me, I'd like to think any decent human being would do the same. If you ever want or need anything call me, we will get you back here James, we will get you back a free man." Spencer spoke his voice low as he returned the hug.

He didn't know how long they stood there until a horn honked outside and it was time to say goodbye.  
For now.

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Hey, after you've read this, let me know. Does anyone want to see any pairings? anything specific, i'm struggling against the idea of adding in Stucky or doing something a bit different


	4. The Calls

Hey hey everyone, if anyone is still reading this, I'm not dead. I'm sorry that it took so long for me to get to this chapter. I've been having trouble with how I wanted to write it, I know in my head what I want but writing it wasn't coming out right.  
I've taken a few liberties surrounding Civil War, but I've tried to make the timelines as accurate to the moves release and when each episode of criminal minds came out a possible  
This hasn't been Beta'd but i really wanted to get it out, if there are any major mistakes let me know and i'll fix them  
hopefully not as long between the now and the next chapter, i know exactly where i want to go with that one  
again sorry  
h xo

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Spencer smiled to himself as he heard his call connect on the other end.

"Spencer, how are you?" The familiar voice spoke lightly through the speaker, immediately brightening Spencer's own smile. It's been almost eight months since they saw each other. But they had made it a rule to speak on the phone at least once a week. It made it better for them both to be able to cope with their separate situations.

"I'm good, not too horrible cases recently, how are you, James?" He spoke juggling his satchel as well as the files he was carrying. Struggling to keep the phone to his ear and open his door at the same time. "Are you still in Europe?" He asked easily releasing his handful once he was in the door and let it be guided to the floor and his table respectively.

"Yeah, for now. I'm doing alright. I've had some new memories this week. Or at least I think they're memories. It's not the soldier this time though. Seems like it was in the war, I checked the book you sent over and what I'm remembering seems to be lining up with what actually happened." James spoke, his voice was lighter than it had been just after he had first left. Then he had been nervous and scared, with the memories flashing back more often since Spencer had started to release them. A process that could have taken years was now happening within months and while at the beginning he had had the more recent memories come back, the angrier feelings from the Soldier. Now it seemed he was finally starting to get more of what had happened before. Just last week he'd gotten memories back from his own 18th birthday that he'd spent with Steve and his family back in the 30's. That had been a good memory.

"That's good, the headaches any better? And no return of the Soldier?" Spencer asked as he moved to the kitchen to get a coffee mug, he himself had a headache, but he knew that James' was usually followed by destructive mannerisms that had become a common part of the soldier's training. And if he could keep this conversation on James' as much as possible it would be a lot nicer of a phone call. Settling in to his couch with his freshly brewed double shot coffee with four times the sugar he was able to partially relax as he talked to the man that to many was and still is the world's most wanted Assassin, but to Spencer was probably his closest friend. They shared things that even the BAU would never know.

"Headaches have been good, none this week and no soldier. The trigger words are still there and I can't figure out how to get rid of them, but as long as I stay somewhere that no one knows them I should be fine. I've been focusing on calming methods it seems to be keeping the anger under control." James himself was sitting in his small cottage in the Austrian mountains. "I've taken down a couple of Hydra bases when I've come across them. Trying to get more information on how to reverse what they did. But it seems I've got a couple of stalkers." He laughed softly, having stayed around at one of the bases recently, long enough that he'd saw the flash or red, white and blue – which could only have been the walking American Flag everyone called Captain America but James always knew him better as a stubborn ass of a kid called Steve, and his new friend with the wings.

"That's good, I've been decoding the information that Widow released, I haven't found anything to undo it yet, they seemed to have actually rerouted your brain waves. I'm sure there's a way to do it, if you knew someone with powers that were similar to mine but more in tuned for telepathic energy." He mused, thinking about the file he'd read yesterday on the training program they used for the Winter Soldier. "Yeah, I heard about your stalker friends, apparently, he's determined to find you, so unless you wanna be brought back to the Avenger's tower – I think that's what their calling it now, I'd suggest keeping a low profile for a bit. Keep sending me through anything you find though and I can see where I can help." Spencer mused, he was happy he was about to help someone he knew and cared for. Recent it felt like all he was here for was to sprout out random statistics when need be.

"Spencer?" James' voice was more hesitant this time when he spoke, the question in his voice indicating maybe he'd already said something that Spencer hadn't quite caught.

Spencer sighed in response, "yeah? Sorry I got caught up in my thoughts for a minute there." He tried to sound cheery about it, but he knew that now that he'd thought about it, the feeling was going to be sticking around for at least the rest of the day.

"Spence, it's okay, you said it to me yourself, it's fine to have bad days." The softness in James' voice was almost Spencer's undoing. He really did missing having the other man around, even though they'd only shared Spencer's house for two weeks, they'd grown close enough that Spencer actually trusted James with more than he would a normal person he'd known for that length. "What's wrong? Somethings changed since the last time we spoke?" Although James phrased it as a question, Spencer knew it was a statement, one that he couldn't back out of. Damn Soviets and training him as a spy before an assassin.

"Do you remember, when I told you the story about how I got into the FBI, my mentor, who basically helped me skip physicals and pushed for me to get a spot in his team even though I was younger than they usually allowed?" Spencer asked softly, placing his now cool and mostly empty cup to the side.

"Yeah, the one that you said went missing, just left a note at his cabin for you?" James prompted, he'd remember how torn up Spencer had been when he recounted that story, and he couldn't imagine this one being any better if the devastated tone of voice was anything to go on.

"Yeah, him. We, uh, we just solved his murder. He was found dead in his cabin the other day. We got given the case, it was… it was difficult. I don't know I always pretended to myself, that one day, he'd come back and I'd get to be angry at him. But he'd be back and I'd finally settle my piece with him. But for him to be dead, I never got to ask him why. Why did he leave the note for me? Why couldn't he saw goodbye? Why didn't he ever come back? I never got to say goodbye. It always happens, I never get to say goodbye anymore, everyone just leaves." He couldn't help the choked up noise that crawled up his throat as he swallowed around a lump that was rapidly forming.

"Hey, hey Spence, it's okay to be upset. I'm sorry kid, I know you cared about him. I'm sure he had his reasons. If you'd known where he was you'd have gone looking for him and maybe he just wasn't ready to be found yet. C'mon you're probably talking to the one man here who knows what wanting to stay hidden feels like. You said his note spoke about finding where he fits in now, wanting to refind himself. You respected him and you cared for him, this was his choice and I know it hurts you but you've got to respect his choice here. You said he was like a father to you, and I'm sorry that he's gone but I'm sure if he could have seen you before he dies, he would have told you, just how proud of you he is and always will be. You're one of the best people I know Spence, trust me, he would want you to be okay and move on. He cared for you to, he left you that note, no one else, you. We've spoken about it before, you don't get to say goodbye to everyone. It's okay, what matters is that they knew that you cared for them. That's the main thing, as long as they knew and you knew that they knew, that should be enough. I never got to say goodbye to my parents, or my sisters and my brother, but they knew I loved them and I knew they loved me and for me, it still hurts but knowing that, it's enough. You've just got to think of it like that. Okay? And I promise I won't go anywhere without saying goodbye to you first." It wasn't until after he finished his little speech that James realises he needed to hear that from his mouth just as much as Spencer did. He had tried not to think about the family he'd left behind, his sisters and his brother who was still a toddler when he was shipped off to war. He loved them still and knowing that they had loved him as well made dealing with their loss that little bit easier.

"Yeah, you're right, I know you're right, it's just been tough. Thanks James." Spencer sighed, letting himself sink back into the couch as he thought over what James had said, he knew the older man was right, but he just had to process it first before he could believe it.

"When am I ever wrong, kid?" James teased back, felling more and more of the old Bucky showing through whenever he talked to Spencer. He reminded him so much of Steve in some ways. The younger man was endlessly stubborn, and always tried to take on the weight of the world. He was smart but he didn't boast, he always put people before himself, but in some ways they were the polar opposites. Spencer was as much a pacifist as he could be in his profession whereas Steve had gone out looking for fights. Their contrast and similarities worked to help James understand where he stood with Spencer, and if anything brought him closer to a man he could better understand than anyone else in the century. While Steve and Spencer shared similarities, Spencer and he shared some too and it helped to have someone who understood him and wasn't expecting Bucky Barnes –ladies' man, charmer and all round great guy. Spencer didn't expect anything from him and he didn't have any preconceived notions of how Spencer should be.

"Didn't I tell you to stop calling me kid, old man?" Spencer teased back the mood to their call lightening as they finished off their weekly conversation before both getting ready for their plans, Spencer that meant getting dinner and watching doctor who before going to bed and for James – well any normal human being would be going to bed, but James would sneak into he nearest town and grab a few things he needed and then scout the perimeter before going to bed.

***  
Spencer let out a tired breath as he sat down with the team at the round table for the latest briefing. They'd just gotten back from their latest case and had barely even gotten home before they had been called in. They'd been warned it wasn't a case but that was all that they had been told.

As JJ and Rossi who were the last to arrive sat down, Hotch and Garcia both stood up to take control of the team and the briefing.

"A couple of days ago, as everyone would have heard, there was an attack on the Avenger's Tower in New York. While this is not our jurisdiction, we have been warned to be on alert by the CIA, the UN and Interpol. As of 30 minutes ago, the UN has issued an international terrorist warning originating in Sokovia. Garcia," Hotch spoke, his voice slightly tighter that usual as he motioned for Garcia to turn the television on. Immediately the screen filled with pictures of crumbling rocks and people running. Their screams echoing through the speakers as the team took in with pure astonishment that the city was actually beginning to float. Every few seconds they could see a streak of red and gold flying through the air or a bolt of lightning following the God of Thunder as he and presumably the rest of the avengers fought atop of the floating city that only seemed to be getting higher.

"Wait, this is Sokovia?" Morgan spoke, leaning forwards with worried interest.

"Yes, from what we've heard Tony Stark has created an Artificial Intelligence with Dr. Bruce Banner, which has gone rogue against the programming and is now attacking the people of Sokovia." Hotch explained take a seat at the round table and looking over his shoulder every couple moments to check the news.

Reid was tired, or at least that was going to be his excuse for not picking up on it immediately.

Sokovia, which was beside Greece. Which last he'd heard from James was where he was, and heading towards Romania through Bulgaria. Which could put him very close to this fight. At the point it was now, if that city came back down it's wipe out everyone with in hundreds of miles. Which meant James was in immediate danger and he probably didn't even realise. Spencer stood so abruptly that his chair fell back, gaining the attention of the rest of his teammates.

"Spence? Are you okay?" JJ asked, her concern coming through as she stood up to come round to him. She'd been the only one he'd told about having met a new friend. He would never have betrayed his friend enough to give away his identity. But she at least knew that he'd met someone when he'd been recovering in Vegas and they'd become rather good friends. She also knew that he was now travelling Europe so they only spoke every now and then.

"I have a friend who would be near there," he spoke quietly before moving as he grabbed his phone from his pocket. Clumsily moving to try and get out from where his chair was, dodge JJ and made his way out of the round able room before he could call James. Not risking someone over hearing.

"Reid, use my office, make sure your friends okay." Hotch called, obviously seeing the barely repressed panic in Reid's face.

Spencer paced backwards and forwards in front of Hotch's. The blinds drawn shut to avoid anyone looking in.

"Come on, come on, come on." He muttered to himself, his free hand fiddling nervously with a loose thread on his shirt. He jumped and then stilled when he heard the other end connect.

"James." He jumped in before the other man could even greet, his nerves twitching as he looked over to the news playing.

"Spencer? What's wrong, I thought you said you wouldn't be able to call until later in the week." The concern in James' voice was immediate. A part of Spencer was pleased at how well James was reacting with emotions now, compared to when they first met and he was rather blank faced and seemed to have trouble showing his emotions or interpreting others. The subject of his recovery however, would have to wait for another time, this was more important.

"Where are you?" He rushed out before he could waste any more time, he was terrified his friend would be in danger, or his cover would be blown. Which would not be something anyone needed right now.

"I detoured through to Belarus, why?" His voice taking on a more defensive and confused tone as he moved over to the side of the pavement where he was currently walking so he could speak to Spencer, trying to understand the panic he could hear in the younger man's voice.

"oh thank god," He heard the younger man sigh, which caught him by surprise as Spencer had voiced numerous times about his lack of belief in any form of all powerful deity and as such rarely voiced the name even in moments of relief. "If you are near a TV turn on the news right now." He commanded before James could think of a reply. He did as he was told, moving across the street to where he knew was a TV salesmen that usually had products on display with the recent news playing. He didn't even have to get too close to recognise the familiar red and blue star-spangled costume that belonged to the man he had once called his best friend. His eyes dropping down with disbelief to read the headline. Taking in what the news was showing.

"holy shit," He breathed, seeing the camera angle change to incorporate the whole picture, realising that the other angle must have been from a helicopter or something because the area of the city that was currently being fought on was raising into the air at an alarming rate. "I should be helping them." He breathed, feeling the crushing guilt as he watched his former best friend attempt to help the civilians of the rapidly rising city. Seeing the zoom in of Steve dangling off the side to catch a woman, who the flying man with the hammer – Thor he reminded himself, threw to him.

"you know you couldn't," spencer reminded him, while it was fully possible that James could give physical help, they both knew that the trigger words still being implemented in his brain posed him at too much of a risk. Apart from the escaping spencer, he hadn't been in any high stress situations that would test his control on the Winter Soldier that still lurked beneath the surface, the unbridles rage and bloodlust he sometimes felt after decades of being an assassin could be too much, put in a life or death situation they weren't sure he would be able to control it. "you aren't ready to see them again, and if you went there, then they'd convince you to go back with them, you said it yourself, you need more time." Spencer spoke, reminding the older man of a conversation they'd had just a few weeks ago. "just stay safe, stay in Belarus for now please, don't do anything rash, I have to get back to work, I'm just glad you're okay." The sigh that left Spencer spoke of his overwhelming relief that his friend wasn't endangered.

"I know, you're right." James spoke softly, starting to walk away from the TV so he wouldn't be tempted to try and get there, he knew Spencer would send him updates with what happened. "Plus, I never do anything rash, if you're worried about recklessness you should meet Steve one day, I'm nothing compared to that." He laughed, he had started to feel more comfortable with casual comments and references to his life before hydra recently, he knew Spencer loved hearing the stories, and encouraged the progress. "I'll talk to you later Spence," He spoke with a smile at the sound of the laugh from the other end as he hung up. Making his way quickly down the street to the cheap motel he was staying at currently.

Spencer walked slowly back to the round table room, flashing a grateful smile at Hotch as he walked in, "He's fine," he breathed relieved when JJ sent him a look.  
***

The day started out pretty normal by Spencer's standards. There had been talk about the Avengers signing the accords at the united Nations today. They were cracking down on enhanced individuals and by the sounds of it they were drafting similar accords for mutants. Even though no one knew about his powers, the possibility of increased consequences should anyone find out had him feeling nervous. He'd talked to James about it multiple times after the events of Sokovia. The man had moved around again, and at last communication Spencer was sure he had found a semi-permanent place to live in Romania for now. Finally settling down to focus on getting some form of normalcy back. It had been good to hear that he had set himself a routine of going to the shops to get himself food etc.  
The day was trotting along normally, nothing out of the ordinary had happened, Spencer had started work at 7am as normal.

It had just turned 10am when the news came on and the BAU stood still once more. The meeting had just started in Vienna regarding the accords, but by the look of the news, the building was gaping in the middle. A bomb having gone off by the street.

It was less than an hour later when a name started to get thrown around for the suspect in the bombing as soon as Spencer heard it his blood ran cold as he immediately excused himself to the bathroom. Slipping into an empty office as he bit his lip, dialling the speed dial and praying he wasn't already too late.

"James, you need to hide right now." There were no pleasantries, no waiting for James to speak first.

"what? Why? What's going on?" James was immediately on alert as he was walking to the fruit store as was his usual routine.

"the UN just got bombed, I don't know how, but they are blaming you, you need to get out of there and get hidden before they find you." Spencer voice was hurried, they couldn't waste tie right now.

"what? How? I don't do that, I'm nowhere near the UN." The panic was evident in James' voice as he spun and immediately saw his own face splashed across a TV playing the news.

"I know, but they don't, someone is framing you, you need to get safe," Spencer begged, he could hear himself pleading, needing James to be safe, he couldn't think of his friend getting hurt, with everything the team was going through now, he couldn't lose someone else he cared for.

"Okay, I'm going, I'll call you when I can." James spoke, panic dropping from his voice as he got down to business.

"good luck, be safe please." Spencer begged as they both hung up. Spencer putting his head in his had to try calm himself as James headed home to grab his emergency pack, not knowing who already waited there for him.

Spencer sighed as he walked through his door, getting back after a week-long case and ready to drop into bed. Pulling out his phone, he'd missed their weekly phone call earlier being on the plane and as he powered his phone back up realised he had four missed calls from James, being this was the first time that James had managed to get in contact with him since the events of the UN, missing the phone calls left Spencer equal part guilty and worried. Quickly he selected the number and called is friend back. They'd gotten closer over the last two years of contact, even with phone conversations and the occasional facetime when James had managed to be inconspicuous and use an internet café computer, as he hadn't felt comfortable procuring his own through fear of his IP address being recorded and someone tacking him.

Spencer dropped his bag while his phone was still ringing and made his way into the kitchen to make something quick to eat before he went to bed, and could eat while he spoke. Placing his phone on speaker to move around the room so that he could still hear when James answered… except the phone kept ringing, and eventually cut off when the system couldn't connect the line. Spencer turned around, looking suspicious at the phone, pressing the call back button immediately and this time waiting by the phone to listen as it once again rung out.

Spencer called four times before he gave it up as a loss, maybe James was busy and couldn't get to the phone, maybe he was out somewhere. He'd leave it and call again in the morning, surely James would be available by then.

***  
Morning came, and Spencer called James four more times with no results.

The phone ringing out each time indicating his friend wasn't near his phone, after the events of the last week, Spencer had a creeping feeling that it wasn't something innocent happening here.

He walked through his house, pulling out his go bag and replacing the clothes in there with some clean ones as he grabbed his phone and dialled the familiar number for Hotch. He walked towards the safe where he kept his gun and notebook with any important information on that he didn't want anyone else to see. Including the address that James had given him last week with the instruction that if anything happened to him or he wasn't answering and there were suspicious circumstances he needed to go to the address and whoever was there would help him or explain.

The address was in DC so it wasn't horrible far away, as Spencer went downstairs to the underground parking his apartment came with to get his car, he couldn't help him mind running over every worst-case scenario, what if he was dead, what if someone who had the words had him. He possibilities were endless and consistently getting worse. People wouldn't step back and realise he had been brainwashed, that he had panic attacks and nightmares from what he'd been forced to do. He suffered from PTSD and survivors guilt. He was innocent in all of this.

The drive from Spencer's apartment to the address took just over 45 minutes as he pulled up outside a normal looking house. Taking a deep breath as he walked towards the door. Hesitating just slightly before raising a hand, with a shaky breath knocking on the door quietly.

He barely waited a minute before the door was swung open and he was face to face with a familiar looking dark-skinned man. Spencer smiled nervously at the man who was glaring at him defensively.

"can I help you?" He asked, watching Spencer suspiciously.

"Hi, yeah, sorry, I'm Spencer Reid, I was given this address by my friend, he said if I couldn't reach him I was to come here." He spoke, just barely keeping the ramble out of his words, taking deep breaths to speak calmly.

"Sam, who is it?" a disembodies but familiar voice came from somewhere in the house, having obviously figuring out that they hadn't been told to run yet so it would have to be semi safe. The words had barely been spoken when a familiar looking blond appeared behind Sam at the door was then also looking at Reid with a calculating gaze.

"not sure man, said his friend gave him this address." Sam spoke, his body still blocking the doorway and showing blatant hostility. "Who's your friend, and why would he have this address?" Sam quizzed him, the look on his face was complete disbelief, there was no way he believed Spencer's story, however true it actually may be.

"His name is James, he wasn't picking up his phone, I've been calling him since last night, I missed a call from his yesterday, there should have been no reason he didn't pick back up. He never missed that many calls." Spencer spoke, he was nervous now, he knew who these people were obviously. Captain America and Falcon. But if they were here, where was James.

He looked at Steve Rogers and saw confusion in his face but some recognition, it clicked for spencer then, the man probably hadn't ever heard James be called by his first name only since they were kids. He was trying to piece it together but was obviously struggling.

"you call him Bucky? We met in Vegas after the fall of Shield, I helped get him out of the country, we've been in contact since, I called him after the bombing at the UN but I haven't heard from him since. I was on a case and I missed our call." This time although trying to stay calm Spencer's words came out in a jumble, but the understanding immediately lit up the two men's face in front of him and the both moved aside finally to let him in and explain finally where James was.


	5. He was Mean

Hey everyone,

So it's not been as long - I'm trying to be more regular I promise.

This starts off as a bit of a filler chapter before the action gets there. It's something I've been having trouble writing because this is the transition to the second part of the story - the main fleshy part. up until now, it's been more introductory.

Let me know what you think

Any guesses as to what's going to happen next?

I love hearing from you guys so let me know

Love

Hx

Ps Not Beta'd so let me know any grammatical errors

* * *

The weeks passed slowly after Spencer had turned up at the home of former Captain Steve Rogers and former Air Force Warrant Officer Sam Wilson – They'd taken him inside and basically debriefed him on the events that had occurred during the Avenger's civil war, including the fact that they themselves were technically not meant to be in the states and had only come back due to rumoured movement of an enemy force of interest. Keeping everything under the radar.

Spencer felt his whole-body run could in sympathy at the thought of James being in cryo again, even if this time it was out of his own violation. He couldn't help think though – as he sat at his desk in the bullpen on a slow Friday afternoon, just what had happened to his friend to get him to even think about going into cryo. Spencer himself knowing just how many times the man had woken from nightmares about that very same experience.

He'd surprisingly kept in touch with the two former Avenger's and actually found himself growing to like the two – while he could see why James was such good friends with Rogers for so long, he had to admit that the man's self-sacrificing righteousness could get a bit over the top, hearing their discussion of plans against the new force they seemed prepared to face had many times ended up in Spencer pointing out the flawed logic that would put the older man at great personal risk. But he could also see what James had meant that time he had likened Spencer's innate ability to put himself in harm's way for the protection of others to that specific personality trait belonging to Steve. Sam, on the other hand, reminded Spencer a bit of Morgan – he was a jokester, came across flirty but had a heart of gold and seemed to be quite the Mommy's boy. He'd heard from the duo just last night, that they had had an information leak indicating that maybe Hydra wasn't as dead as they thought it was after the events of Ultron and James' own world destruction tour to take down the bases he remembered from his own captivity.

Spencer tried not to let it get to him that the pseudo-Nazi organization that had experimented on him as a child as well as brainwashed and tortured someone he looked up to and classified as a good friend was still out there and seemingly had the ability to keep themselves mostly under the radar. But he couldn't help the sick feeling he got every time that he thought about the octopus bearing terrorists didn't bode well for either his mental health or his paranoia. He had a cold feeling crawl up his spine that he was just waiting for something to happen. And it wasn't a matter of if, it was more a matter of when. With Zemo having killed the only other Winter soldier 'assets' of Hydra, and James far out of their reach (and according to the Wakandan Princess – that was a surprise when Steve told Spencer that part, healing well and expecting to be woken up as soon as they had concrete proof they could remove the trigger phrases) Spencer had a feeling that they would soon be after some form of replacement – he didn't like how that bode for him. He had been sure they wouldn't know where he was r how to get to him – but with the release of the information of Shield being Hydra he knew there was a high likelihood that they had contacts within the FBI. As much as he knew he should probably discuss this with Steve and Sam he couldn't help feeling that really it was James he wanted to confess his fears too.

Spencer would be lying if he said that these events weren't getting to him – with Morgan's resignation, his mother's condition, the appearance of Mr. Scratch and now the Avenger's civil war that had taken away his contact with the one person he actually felt safe discussing all this with. Not to mention the inexplicable heighten in the strength of his powers, making it harder to keep them hidden during work. Constantly being run down from cases or just mentally exhausted from the emotional upheaval recently, he consistently found his hands glowing blue or could feel himself tapping into all sorts of energy around him, he's almost short-circuited the mainframe twice without meaning to when he'd almost fallen asleep at his desk.

He hated sounding selfish – but at this point, he really just needed to get away, he needed a holiday for himself. That's why as soon as he finished work today, he was heading down to Vegas and spending at least a couple of days by himself, letting his powers work themselves out and just relaxing in his childhood home.

By the time 6pm rolled around Spencer was itching to get out of the BAU, his go bag was under his desk packed already with the things he needed to get him to Nevada, knowing he already had essentials at the house from last time he was there. He'd finished his paperwork hours ago and had spent a while in both JJ's and Rossi's office discussing separate things with each member of the team.

As the clock struck the hour, Spencer leaped to his feet and headed straight for Hotch's door – his boss had happily let him have the time off after having cited on numerous occasions that he didn't believe Reid gave himself enough holidays.

Knocking on the door lightly before opening it slowly to poke his head around and make sure Hotch wasn't busy. The elder man just smiled and waved the young genius into the room.

"Ready for a bit of time off?" Hotch asked as Reid approached the desk to hand over his final finished files,

"Definitely." Reid smiled as he placed the files into Hotch's inbox, he could see in the eyes of the elder profiler that the recent events within the BAU hadn't just been affecting him psychologically. The man too looked exhausted. "Maybe, it'll be your turn when I come back?" he teased softly seeing the man's tired smile in return.

"you just enjoy your time off Reid, I'll try to promise no interruptions or early ends and I'll see you when you get back. Relax, you deserve a rest." The dismissal in the words was clear and Spencer quickly thanked his boss before leaving the room and heading straight to the carpark where he would drive his car to the airport and fly down to Vegas for the next few days.

Spencer smiled to himself as he pulled the keys out his side bag to open the door to his Vegas home – not having been here in a. While and thinking about how much better if felt to finally come home to a place that didn't remind him of work. While the place did remind him of James having been where they stayed before he went to Europe – that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, as he knew in Wakanda that James was recovering well. A call to Steve while waiting for the plane had allowed Spencer to tell the other man about the theory Spencer had regarding the removal of trigger words and the powers of Scarlet Witch. Which was now something he knew the other two men would call through to Wakanda for trial.

All up, now necessary things are done that required Spencer to think he was grateful to have a few days to let his brain shut down and his body to physically relax and powers to work themselves out as the stress alleviated.

While he had been looking forward to spending his time relaxing Spencer forgot about one very important thing – Spencer ignored the instincts that had been telling him the same thing he had been thinking earlier... something was about to happen.

He wasn't prepared when at 1am the day after he'd arrived in Vegas – while asleep on the bed with the TV still running on loop a documentary he'd fallen asleep to earlier, the front door to the house flew open and suddenly the house was swarmed with 6 people dressed in black tactical gear followed by a smirking man in a dark coat.

The sudden noise of the intrusion jerked Spencer out of his peaceful dream and threw him into reality – not even giving his body to adjust he was rolling out of his bed already reaching for the lockbox he kept in the bedside cabinet.

There wasn't enough time, however, to get the box unlocked before the door to his bedroom flung open, bouncing back off the wall as 3 intruders burst into his room, large guns pointed at the young genius. He froze in place as the sight of the barrels and felt his whole body run cold as his brain finally caught up with his body on what exactly was going on – assisted along by the emblazoned red skull octopus staring back at his from the chest of the intruder's uniforms.

To make everything worse, two of the three standing in front of the door parted ways and Spencer was greeted with the smirking face on someone he never wished to see again.

"Hello Spencer, sorry to wake you, but it's time to come home," the man spoke, making every fiber of Spencer's being filled with rage and hatred.

Doing the only thing he could without being able to reach for his gun, Spencer gathered up the energy that lay inside of him - that had been reacting oddly recently and transferred it into a psionic blast that sent those in his room back against the wall. Solidifying it to turn the energy into some form of restraints. Trying as hard as he could to find a viable way out of this mess before his worst fears could come true.

He'd just about made it through the bedroom door when a shot rang out. He heard it before he felt the vicious pain through his abdomen as one of the Hydra soldiers who had been in the living room (and as such had escaped Spencer's panicked mind) shot at him to halt his escape.

Spencer made it two more steps before his legs collapsed underneath him and he reacted to the soldier's movements towards him by sending out his powers in almost solidified tendrils to hit at the men. Knocking one down into the coffee table (not caring about the fact he subsequently broke the table), one tendril hit the couch and flipped it while another accidentally swept the ornaments off the sideboard table that had been beside the 3rd approaching man – sending them crashing to the floor. His energy was leaving him drastically. His brain running a mile a minute trying to catalog his injury and figure out a way to save himself.

 _Gunshot wound to the abdominal thorax – epigastric region, likely missed intensities. Possible liver damage. Entering into hypovolemic shock – possible nicking of abdominal aorta – not complete severance or would have bled out by now. Power strength starting to fail – likely 30 seconds left of consciousness. I don't want to go back there. I can't go back there. Call for help. Hotch… no too slow, he has to follow procedures he wouldn't get there in time. Maybe Nino …No he's non-combatant, he'll be angry with me, also signed contract won't get here or have jurisdiction. Steve… gotta get to Steve, less than 15 seconds of consciousness remaining – energy levels depleting quickly._

With his last remaining moment of consciousness, Spencer attached his powers to the electrical current from his phone and sent the quickest SOS he could to the number he had saved under the contact for Rogers. Realising there was no way to save himself before the pseudo-Nazi's took him he had to get someone out there looking for him at least.

 ** _SOS. Vegas. Hydra. SR_**

The last thing he heard before his consciousness fled was laughter as the coat-clad man stood over the top of him. "You will lead Hydra back to victory, child of Hydra." And then the disturbing feeling of fingers pushing themselves into the bloody wound spreading across his stomach.

2,500 miles away at 4:45am a phone lit up on the bedside table of Steve Roger's waking him from his semi-peaceful sleep.

No sooner was he awake than he was out of bed and grabbing the modified suit that now made up his tactical gear and calling for Sam to get up and changed now.

Already calling the number back that had sent the message – begging for it to pick up. After 4 times of going to voicemail, Steve called a different number. Speaking as he was running to the front of the apartment, Sam not far behind him following without yet knowing the details.

"Clint, we need the jet ready to go as soon as we get there, something happened."

They arrived less than 2 hours later at the front door of one Spencer Reid to find the door hanging off the hinges. The house was far enough away from its neighbors that it was likely none of them had heard much of what had happened or hadn't seen the outside of the house just yet – given it was a weekend.

Steve entered the house first, followed by Sam with Nat and Clint not too far behind him.

The entry hallway was covered in bloody footprints and had pictures knocked off the wall, tables tossed over and the rug had been shoved to the side of the floor. Bending to pick up a picture on the floor he suppressed a gasp at the sight of Spencer and Bucky laughing. He noted that the picture must have been taken been when Bucky had stayed at Spencer's after Washington –but the unadulterated joy on his tortured friend's face made his heart clench.

Stealthily making his way into the living room he came to a stop when his eyes landed on a large pool of blood by the doorway to what looked like a bedroom.

His eyes unwillingly followed the bloody footsteps that lead away from the pool (likely Spencer's blood – his mind supplied) to the wall. His own blood ran cold and he could hear the swear from Sam and Clint's lips as well as what he assumed to be swearing from Nat's (In Russian).

"Nat call T'challa, we need to get ready to wake Bucky," He spoke his voice almost unrecognizable to himself as he stared at the message written in blood on the wall – still dripping with freshness.

 **HAIL HYDRA**


End file.
